The History of Angela Turner
by Freud-Plato-SisterMonicaJoan
Summary: I might have called this story "A Bit of Moral Contagion" or "Timothy Turner's Sex Education", but as it is mostly an alternative version of Series3 Turnadette, let's dedicate it to Angela. The adoption story is rewritten, the version I wrote in "Seeds Of War" in mind. This is also a fragmentary story, with time jumps, leading us to 1965.
1. Chapter 1

**Conclave Around Freddie The Baby**

_Six months after the Turner wedding (this is AU, too). There is no Angela yet, and no other events related to infertility have taken place._

There was a bit of baby buzz at the Community Centre kitchen that morning. Before the opening of a clinic day, there was an inspection of just one baby.

Chummy had left Freddie there for a while in the care of nurses and nuns when she had to visit the chemists. Freddie was going from the lap of Sr Winifred to Patsy. Then he cried and Sr Evangelina took him, and she managed with him a little better. Freddie was however soon snatched from her by Doctor Turner. He gurgled at him.

Shelagh had arrived by this time and she stopped at the door, watching the scene. Nobody noticed her at first.

"You look like the idiotic young father you were when Timothy was born," Sr Evangelina mocked, but not without affection.

"Oh thank you, Sr Evangelina, that is complimentary indeed," Doctor Turner replied with a bit of irony.

"Fortunately, you are now older and wiser, and a more useful Doctor, too."

"Oh, Sr Evangelina. Was I really so useless at that time?"

By now, Sr Evangelina had noticed Shelagh and she smiled at her in a helpless manner, if anything that Sr Evangelina did could be called helpless. Patrick turned around and beamed at his wife.

"Hello, Mrs. Turner."

"Hello, Patrick." Shelagh came forward and tickled Freddie under his chin.

Sr Winifred decided to lighten the atmosphere, but her input made things actually worse. "Chummy went to the chemists and left Freddie for us to adore. Doctor Turner seems a natural."

A subdued laughter followed and some gave Shelagh apologetic looks.

Doctor Turner was not very embarrassed, though. "Please, Sr Winifred, I have just had a lot of practice. This is after all a baby clinic. Timothy was a much more, let's say, energetic baby than Freddie, that I remember." He gave the bouncing baby back to Sr Winifred.

"He was a regular riot," said Sr Evangelina. "Running and stumbling into furniture. But he has turned out all right, I say."

"Thank you, Sr Evangelina. He is indeed all right, especially after Shelagh moved in."

Shelagh was laughing with the others. In the back of her mind she had this gnawing discomfort. Fortunately no-one paid any specific attention to her and people left the kitchen one by one to their duties. When Chummy came back, Shelagh was there alone with the sleeping Freddie in his cot. Shelagh had tears in her eyes.

"What is it, Shelagh? Has Freddie been giving trouble?"

"Oh no. I was just thinking…." She left the room hurriedly. Chummy stared after her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Nine months after the Turner wedding_

Shelagh was waiting by the car. Patrick had just gone for a brief visit at the Warrens: Len had had a bit of sciatica lately. Shelagh felt that she was not in the mood to meet Conchita Warren this time. Her English was still not good, and Shelagh didn't fancy a translated session with the help of the children.

Some of the Warren children, the smallest of them, from age five to ten were playing in the street. Shelagh watched them wistfully. The happy shrieking of a joyous crowd, the running about….

Then she felt her husband taking her by the shoulders. Such public display of affection was still rare for them, but this time Shelagh grasped his hand on her shoulder tightly.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Oh, Patrick, I think you know."

"We just have to be patient."

"I hope so. I hope so indeed….How was Mr. Warren?"

"Much better." Patrick had that odd look, he seemed to withhold something back.

"What is it, Patrick? Did he and Conchita again snog a little in your presence?" Shelagh laughed.

"No, dear. It was… oh, forget it."

"Tell me."

Patrick felt conflicted. This was beginning to be hard. They could not escape the community they lived in. They had to navigate with the expectations.

"Well, to be blunt, he asked if he could come and decorate a….nursery."

Shelagh was stunned. Patrick guided her into the car swiftly and took the driver's seat himself. Then he took her hand. "Darling, you know that I don't have any expectations. That is the only thing that matters."

"I think we both have expectations, Patrick."

"Well, we have to sort them out, don't we?"

"Yes, we do. Just give me time...to grasp things."

"I will."


	3. Chapter 3

_Ten months after the Turner wedding_

Shelagh regained her consciousness on an examination table at the Clinic. Someone was putting a cold towel on her forehead.

"Easy now, Shelagh. It seems you fainted." It was Sr Evangelina.

Shelagh remembered feeling dizzy and trying to lean on the desk. It had been a morning of an unwelcome letter and also of some stomach cramps.

"Please, Sr Evangelina, I don't need a towel."

"All right. But you should not get up. Take a rest there for some minutes."

Sr Evangelina sat by her and kept silence for a while. "Shelagh, has something happened? Fainting is not like you."

Shelagh shook her head. "No, it is not. But I have stomach cramps. And in the morning I got this letter…"

She took the envelope from her pocket and gave it to Sr Evangelina.

Sr Evangelina glanced at the letter. "So you are not pregnant."

"No, Sister."

"I take it that Doctor Turner does not know about this pregnancy test?"

"No. I managed to get it signed by Doctor Stewart, in a mix with six other similar tests."

Sr Evangelina sighed and shook her head. "Oh you poor girl…"

Shelagh felt she could not take this anymore.

"Oh please, Sister. Let me get up."

"If you wish."

Sr Evangelina observed the small figure sitting there on the bed quietly. She had known her for eleven years and yet she could not find words of comfort.

"Shouldn't you tell your husband of this test result?"

"I should. I promise I will. "

"You should also ask him his medical opinion of what you should do next."

"Yes, I should. It has all been so complicated, Sister."

"I think you make it more complicated than it is."

"I am just so afraid….of being a disappointment to him."

"From the way he looks at you, I don't think you are able to do that. You are worse than Chummy and Peter in their early courtship."

Shelagh forgot momentarily her present pain because of this shocking piece of news.

"Are we? That is awful. I don't want to be so obvious."

"Shelagh, being obvious is not a cardinal sin. Not letting me finish my supper in peace is," Sr Evangelina deadpanned. Shelagh gave way to a mixture of a laugh and a sob.

"There's more to marriage than this longing for children. Shelagh, listen to me. You have Timothy. He needs you."

"Yes, he does, Sister."

"And you should talk with your husband. Oh, there he is. I will leave your wife into your competent care, Doctor Turner. She has had a bit of a morning."

Patrick looked anxiously at the retreating back of Sr Evangelina. Then he gave his full attention to his wife, sitting there clearly shaken and sad. He sat by her.

"Shelagh, what is it? I heard you fainted." He stroked her forehead.

"There is nothing seriously wrong with me. I have some stomach pain, and I got some unwelcome news."

"What news?"

She kept a pause. "That I am not….pregnant. The test results came today. I had the test signed by Doctor Stewart. Sorry, Patrick."

He was struck silent. Then he bowed his head and kissed her palm of hand. After what seemed a very long time, he raised his head and pulled her hand up to his cheek, and kept it there deliberately. Her fingers could feel his veins pulsing at irregular pace.

"You are the one to take the wrong buses, aren't you?"

"Sorry, love. I wanted it to be… romantic. I wanted to see your face when I told you."

"Look at my face now, Shelagh. You are not doing this alone. We are together in this." He kissed her hand once more and let it fall down. He kept a hold of it still, his eyes downcast.

"I know. I am silly."

"No, you are not. There is nothing wrong in being romantic. To a certain degree". He smiled wanly at her. "I am a hopeless romantic, too. I'm afraid my love and longing for you is evident to everybody."

"Yes, Sr Evangelina has noticed. She complained of our swoony looks."

Patrick laughed, a bit sadly. "Sr Evangelina is right. I shouldn't do that at the Clinic. Can't help myself."

"She said something else, too. That I should talk with you. That I should ask you what you think of this….test."

"I think you should go to see Ted Horinger."

"The gynecologist?"

"Yes." He pulled her close and nudged his nose in her hair. He could feel her thinking.

"Dear girl, what is it? Do you not want to see a specialist?"

"No, that's not it. I want to find out." It was difficult for her to continue. "Whatever the verdict. What pains me most is that ….you would love to have more children."

"Dearest. I love you. That will never change. I hope I am not a disappointment to you, ever, even if it is only the three of us in our family. "

"Of course not. "


	4. Chapter 4

_At the Horinger's surgery._

"That's my girl." Patrick approached the bed with gladness betraying a strain.

"Is it over?" Shelagh was weary and afraid.

"All done." Shelagh tried to get up.

"Oh, no sitting up. Matron's orders. And I am telling you, she is an absolute Tartar."

"Did you see Mr. Horinger?"

"Have a bit of more sleep. We can talk later. "There was a silence. Shelagh was struggling, he could see. He had a lump in his throat.

"No. Tell me now."

He was still hesitant.

"Patrick. Please."

"I think I am inclined to ignore the Matron's orders. I want to hold you now."

Shelagh started to cry. He sat by her on the other side of the bed and pulled her a little up to lean unto him.

"Does this hurt? How is your wound?"

"It does hurt, but it's not the wound. Please, tell me."

"There is scar tissue throughout the pelvic organs. It seems that the tuberculosis was not only in your lungs."

Shelagh pressed his arm desperately.

"Is he sure?"

"There will be a biopsy. But it can only prove what we already know."

Shelagh's sobbing continued. "I know. There is no hope."

Patrick kissed her hair. "Shelagh….!"

"I am so sorry!"

"Don't say that! Think of how many dreams came true."

"Not just all of them."

She kept crying. He kept muttering to her quietly: "There now. My poor girl. "

Once she asked: "What if the tartar Matron comes in? We should not be seen like this."

"Oh, to heck with the Matron. I will use my authority as a Doctor and stare her down. I will defend our family. "

"Oh, Patrick."


	5. Chapter 5

_Three months after the operation_

Patrick arrived at their kitchen. Shelagh was cooking the dinner. He wondered if it was the right time to touch certain issues. Shelagh had been remarkably brave after the operation, but she could still balk at any conversation of children and babies.

"I met the Carter twins today. All four of them, "Patrick said tentatively.

"Really? How are they doing?"

"Not so bad, if you consider the oddness of the mothers and their backward attitude to medicine. The children are doing remarkably well."

Shelagh chuckled a little. "I think the older Meg and Maeve have improved a little in that respect after becoming mothers."

"Mothers. They are indeed like both mothers to those girls, although only Maeve gave birth."

Shelagh's mien became frozen. Her lips started to tremble. Patrick gathered her into his arms very quickly.

"Shelagh. We will find a way. I promise."

"Yes, dear. I hope so. I just can't bear to think how so many babies are born to poor circumstances and yet they thrive. We. who would have so much to give, we can't have a baby."

"I know. But we have Timothy."

"Yes, luckily we have Timothy. And we have each other." He lowered his head to find her lips. The kiss was a long, lingering one. It seemed to incorporate all the sadness and disappointment they had experienced. Then Patrick let his head drop. After a while, he raised his head and looked at Shelagh in an earnest manner:

"Think of what we were to each other previously and what we are now. Think of all the happiness we have experienced since the Carter twins doubled."

"Yes, Patrick," Shelagh smiled. "It is all here for us to remember and enjoy. Yet I can't help feeling….that since I clapped my eyes on you….at the yard after the birth of the Carter babies…"

"Oh, were you having impure thoughts, my love?" Patrick teased.

"Keep your dirty imagination in check", Shelagh retorted, laughing as well. "I just think that it is sad that we are not able to experience a birth together. A birth of our child."

"I know, love."

There was a silence. Patrick was looking at his wife as if he was assessing her state of mind.

"Shelagh, I have been thinking…"

"Yes?"

"I think we should consider adoption."

"Do you really think that? Because I have been afraid to raise the topic."

"You mean, because of my war experiences and Northfield?"

"Yes. That. I was worried you might feel hurt…if it came up."

"I think I am up to it. If you feel adoption would be a good thing, we should explore that."

"Patrick. Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Yes. I think I may have heard it….every now and then. Expressed with pure and impure thoughts."

"All right, my sergeant…" Shelagh laughed.

"One more fight, my officer. If you feel it is a way forward."

"One more good fight. Thank you, Patrick."


	6. Chapter 6

**The realism strikes: I think there was a promise of taking a further look into the teenage life at Poplar in Timothy's remark about moral contagion. I am usually wrong in my predictions, though.**

_"All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction, silent and strong."_ Shelagh had had this quotation in her mind lately because it described her state of mind so well. Baby Angela Turner was three months old. She was the heart of a happy household, the besotted Turners. Shelagh felt that her longing had been fulfilled. Her marriage blossomed. Patrick was totally taken by his daughter. Timothy was a proud big brother.

The only thing that sometimes marred this paradise was Shelagh's occasional thoughts of the circumstances of the adoption. Angela's birth mother had been forced to give her to adoption by her parents.

After the visits Patrick had paid to the Mother and Baby Home, Shelagh suspected that this might be on his mind, too. He had told a few things of the girls there, although now that Chummy was permanently the Matron there, it was a much happier place.

Shelagh opened the bedroom door carefully. She smiled at the sight of the father and the daughter lying there together.

"I wondered where you'd got to." She lay down beside them. This sharing a bed and a baby with her husband was one her joyous rituals, a replacement of the old morning and evening prayers. A new sacrament, she secretly called it.

In an instant he read Patrick's state of mind. "You look sad."

He sighed. "I couldn't be happier. For us."

Shelagh started to fondle the sleeping Angela's arm.

"Our daughter started her life as someone else's child." Patrick seemed to hold his breath. "How can we ever forget that?"

Shelagh felt a twitch in her stomach. "I forget it a hundred times a day. Then I remember, and my heart breaks for the poor wee girl, who gave her up. She will be thinking if she is loved."

"Do you think she is somehow able to feel if her daughter...her biological daughter is loved?"

"The mother's instinct is odd. I feel it with Angela, by the benefit of being with her. It may produce strange images. Even when the object….is missing."

"It is not possible for her to totally forget, is it?"

"I don't think there can be a total blocking of the memory. But neither can I stop feeling that Angela is ours. That she was meant to be ours." Shelagh frowned. "We know nearly nothing of Angela's birth mother. I hope that her parents who made the decision on her behalf take good care of her."

"Shelagh, you are not responsible for that decision."

"I know. But I can't help wondering, and neither can Tim, it seems. He has again asked about the birth mother."

"I think we should….try to do what we can to reach her."

"Do you really? What do you mean?"

"We could write a letter to the Adoption Society. Just in case she one day might wish to know what happened to her baby."

"We could do that."

Patrick put the sleeping baby carefully to her cot. Then she offered Shelagh his hand and pulled her up, pulled her into his arms and kissed her chastely on the lips, and he backtracked when she tiptoed up to him and caressed his head and desired for more. "Steady now, Mrs. Turner. I am an old man needing my dinner…"

Shelagh sighed and retreated. "True. One more thing."

"Yes, love?"

"You should talk with Timothy. He is approaching that age. When girls become an interest. I don't mind you taking him with you on your rides, even to the Mother and Baby Home, but you should talk with him."

"I will. By the way, Len Warren called..."

"Do not tell me. He has paint and colors and plans for the nursery ready. Do you really wish to go forward with that? "

"I think I do. "

"You silly man. You are a wonderful father."

"Yes, I know that," Patrick laughed self-consciously.


	7. Chapter 7

_A time jump. The year 1965. Denise's mother asked if these girls might make the same mistake again. That is my clue for this story._

Chummy approached the Turner house in deep thoughts. Had Shelagh guessed why she had asked to see her, on a personal matter?

She was also wondering if Doctor Turner might be there. She felt her task might be easier if he was at home. Chummy had a fondness and respect for the man who was the first Doctor to see her professional capacities. She had a trust in him.

He wasn't there, however. Shelagh was at home with Angela, who was taking a nap. Chummy had always admired her quiet manner and gracefulness, and now when she was approaching her fortieth birthday, she was in some ways more beautiful than ever. Her life, with its odd choices, had been good for her. She seemed unperturbed, but Chummy wondered if she was politely ignoring her uneasiness, as she herself felt it was obvious.

After the first cup of tea, Chummy felt that she could not delay her business anymore.

"Shelagh, there is a girl, or perhaps I should say a young woman, at the Mother and Baby Home right now called Carrie Melton."

Shelagh didn't seem to react to the name. Well, why would she? "Yes, Chummy, what about her?"

"She is about to give birth in two weeks' time. But it's not her first baby."

Shelagh's gaze was not anymore so serene. There was a question in it.

"Shelagh. I am sorry to say, but it seems she is Angela's birth mother."

Shelagh was struck. "Chummy. Oh my God. Are you sure?"

"Well, she has given birth to a baby girl on the 15th of April in 1960. She has a hospital bill for that."

Shelagh put her hand on her heart. She was like a deer caught in headlights.

"That is Angela's birthday, isn't it?" Shelagh could only nod. "Then there is this." Chummy took a letter from her handbag and gave it to Shelagh.

Shelagh gave a small moan. She looked at the letter. "Yes. This is the letter we sent to the Adoption Society in the autumn of 1960. "

Chummy decided to keep silent for a while. Shelagh seemed immersed in the letter, in her own handwriting, and her eyes were with tears. After quite a while she asked Chummy in a very little voice:

"Please, continue. Who is she and what does she want? I take it that she is not married to the father of the baby this time, either."

Chummy told her Carrie's story in her slow, hesitant manner, keeping it as neutral as she could.

"She is twenty years old. She has been training to be a….nurse. It seems her parents were supporting this. Now, with this…second pregnancy, they have stopped to support her. They have practically disowned her.

She will be twenty-one next month. She has said that she wants to be married and will keep the baby. I have talked with the father, too, and I think he is quite ready to do this. Only right now, things are a bit difficult, as the father is in the Army and he has been transferred to Northern England. So Carrie is alone at the moment. His parents have had a hard time coming to terms with this, too….But Carrie believes that they will, in the end. So does Derek. That's the father, he is twenty-one, too."

"What about….what has she said of Angela?"

"She thinks she would like to meet you. Just to….fortify her in her decision to keep the baby this time. She would like tell you something of Angela's birth family, even though the grandparents do not want to keep in touch with their daughter. At the moment."

"Chummy, are you sure it is wise? I mean, she seems to have a mature attitude and sensible plans. But is she really considering all the issues…Do you think it is good for her?"

"Is it good for you? That is what I'd like to know. You don't have to meet her, even though you wrote that letter. That is still negotiable. She is content with the information you gave about Angela, and she has become less agitated after she read that letter. I have explained to her the terms of an adoption process completed."

"So she got the letter only recently?"

"Yes. I suppose some part of her wishes that you would skip meeting her, as it is going to be painful anyway."

Shelagh sat in her thoughts. She was looking into a distance. Chummy saw herself as a Greek who came bearing gifts. She certainly looked like a Trojan horse, she sighed. It might be a bitter gift, but she could not have acted in any other way.

Finally, Shelagh came to this world. "Thank you, Chummy, for bringing this message. I know it can't have been easy for you."

"Oh, you old thing, I am not the one to be sorry for in this situation."

"I think there might be some blessing in disguise in this matter. After all, we wrote the letter especially for this purpose: to help Angela's birth mother."

"Well, after you have discussed it with Patrick, let me know what you will do."

Shelagh exhaled long and hard. "Yes, I will discuss it with Patrick. I will let you know."

"Thank you Shelagh. You really are remarkably brave."

"Oh, Chummy, you are kind."

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Timothy met his dazed Mum at the kitchen. He was nearly as tall as his father and had an octave lower speaking voice. Yet he was still very boyish.

"Why was Akela here? Did she come just for tea?"

Shelagh had not heard Timothy coming in nor him going upstairs, and yet it was from upstairs he came. He could have heard something, Shelagh concluded. He was still very sensitive to all kinds of atmospheres.

"Timmy, she had something to tell me. I will tell you what it is after I have talked with your father. It was….about a girl who is at Chummy's Home."

"I have seen some of the girls from the Home at Poplar. They sometimes come by bus and go shopping or sit at the Caprionis."

"Have you indeed? How do you know they are from the Home? Has someone said that?"

"Well, someone might have mentioned that. They don't look different from the Poplar girls. I mean, in addition to being pregnant. Although these girls who come to Poplar are usually those who have already given birth."

"Do you think they should look different?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some guys say they do. I don't notice any difference."

"By the way, do you and Jack still go with his scooter around the countryside?"

"Not so often. He has that girlfriend now, remember, that Brenda? "The contemptuous emphasis on the word 'girlfriend' was both funny and sad. It was hard to lose one's mate to a girl, contemplated Shelagh.

"I think Brenda is nice."

"She may be. If you like red-heads" retorted Timothy snippily.

"Tim! Is that polite?"

Timothy took his Mum by the shoulders. "All right, Mum, sorry, I won't complain."


	8. Chapter 8

After some agonizing talks, Patrick and Shelagh visited the Home and met Carrie Melton. Her visit to the Turner house was arranged next. By this time, they told Timothy of the news.

When Carrie came, Timothy was there at first, too, but then he was sent his own room. The adults needed time to let this meeting sink in and to have a serious conversation. Angela was obviously there too, at first, until she was taken to her nursery and stayed there under Tim's care.

Over the next days, Shelagh was overcome by the impressions of meeting Carrie. Now that she was a real person to her, Shelagh was not anymore anguished. Carrie had the same fragile, blond beauty than Angela, but she was a reserved person. The meeting of her daughter was obviously awkward and tense, but the tenseness was not overbearing. Having to leave her new-found daughter to the care of the Turners, she seemed resigned at that:

_"It wouldn't be right for her to be removed anywhere from here. I have to bear the consequences. I will not forget her. I never totally forgot her in these years. I know my parents did what they thought right, and they were thinking of my education and my future. I know they meant no ill, and partially they were right: I was doing well in my nursing studies….until Derek came and suddenly I was not thinking clearly. It was not Derek's fault: I think I might have regretted the past so that I was taken by the need to relive it again. To have a baby._

_I know you mean no ill by keeping and loving Angela. What I know now is that I must take care of this little one to be born soon. To keep giving the baby what Angela should have been given by me. "_

That was the gist of that long, halting, anguished meeting and their conversation. Shelagh kept seeing in her mind a heart-breaking picture: how Angela was sitting in the lap of her father and seemingly wondering why everyone was so odd today.

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A week later, Chummy called from the Home and told that Carrie had given birth to a baby boy. The mother and the baby were doing fine, and Carrie seemed oddly elated, said Chummy.

"Well, perhaps it is not so odd, "said Patrick.

"What do you mean, Dad?" asked Timothy, holding Angela in his lap.

"She will have a chance to make up what she lost. It can make a man…..dizzy," said Patrick and picked up his daughter from Timothy and started dancing with her.

"Dad, you're quite goofy," noted Timothy in acerbic manner. Shelagh noticed a strange undertone in it.

"Timothy, what is it? What's bothering you?" she asked.

Patrick stopped dancing and looked at him. "Hey Tim, I danced with you as goofily when you were a child."

"Dad, I know. It is just…..Angela has a real brother now."

"Tim, you are Angela's real brother. You are no less a brother now….than before," Shelagh stressed, worried.

"Just like Shelagh is your Mum now," Patrick added. "Never forgetting your late Mum, of course."

He gave Angela to Shelagh and went to give a bear hug to Timothy.

"Dad, go away, I am too old for that."

"You are never too old for this. But okay, big man." He moved further apart and smiled. "The big brother." He ruffled his hair.

"Oh please, Dad."

"Okay, okay. Are you too old to take Angela out for a while before dinner?"

"No…"

"Thank you, son. "


	9. Chapter 9

**A bit of moral contagion**

The shock was over: there was a period of recuperation and re-alignment. Carrie had left with her son to join Derek in his regiment in Northern England. The Turners had been at the Home to see her and the baby. The baby looked nothing like Angela: he was dark and sturdy. "Just like his Dad," Carrie said proudly. The Turner family returned home, a bit chastened from this baptism of fire. It was like a new start. They had a new history as a family. Angela, a playful 5-year-old, was the only family member happily unaware of the storm which had passed over her.

Timothy had been sometimes pensive and moody, sometimes inquisitive and direct. On one of his direct days, after expressing a series of thoughts of how things are, how they could have been and what they could become in the future, he shot a question to his Dad:

"Didn't you walk dangerously close to moral contagion when you courted Mum? When she was still Sister Bernadette?

"Tim! Hold your tongue."

"It's all right Patrick. I think we are to answer this. It is a wonder it hasn't turned up before. "Shelagh seemed at peace with herself. Something had been adjusted to its right place.

"But I didn't really court you. I didn't seduce you."

"Well, some of the letters were if not seductive….very appealing."

Patrick gave her a very self-conscious look.

"The letters to the sanatorium….."Tim brightened up. "I remember them. You sat at the desk writing them, going through several drafts."

"Oh, did he indeed?" Shelagh had a glee in her voice.

Patrick harrumphed rather red-faced. "Timothy, this is strictly between your Mum and me."

"Is it really so, Patrick? Does he not have a right to know? He is sixteen now, and at the time he was exposed to the….circumstances of our union. I was sixteen when I felt the calling to become a nun. A calling I later promised to follow, a promise I broke, so beneficially for you. Isn't that one level of moral contagion?"

Patrick pondered this for a while. "Well, not all of it is perhaps strictly between adults."

"Tim, both the levels of love….and levels of moral contagion are hard to see sometimes. There was a confusion in my mind and heart, and also—I know because she has told me—in the mind and heart of your Mum. I mean when she was Sister Bernadette."

"But Tim, you are old enough to understand that there are moral struggles in many decisions. What you don't' know is that your father made it very clear in those letters that I was not in any way bound to leave the Convent for him. He was willing to….sacrifice."

There was a silence. Patrick sat beside Shelagh, took her hand and looked at her with quiet adoration.

"There must be a freedom to choose and a respect for that choice."

Patrick cleared his throat again. "So you see, there must not be forced choices. That is there the decay begins. Be it moral, or something else, if you do not wish to call it moral decay. Those girls at the Mother and Baby Home…..There may have been no respect for human life in the circumstances of their lives and, may I say, in the lives of the men who are the fathers of the babies. So they may not recognize their errors. "

"I am not sure I agree with you Dad in all that you try to convey, but I understand what you are trying to say. A human being is always free only to the degree he or she allows other people to be free, and to have a free choice. Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes, son. I also think that it is due to your Mum, I mean Shelagh, and also your late Mum, that you are able to understand these things. So it has been beneficial for you to have two mothers. Not all the people, not those girls at the Home are so fortunate."

"Patrick, you should not exclude yourself so nimbly from the beneficial effects on Timothy."

"Yes, the beneficial effect of burned dinners before you moved in, Mum."

Patrick snorted with gusto. "Timothy, have some respect for you Old Man. I was honestly trying to improve my cooking skills."

Then he turned serious. "Remember the time I told you that love is beautiful and serious."

"Yes…"

"Well, this is one of those times. To remember that love is beautiful and serious. One more thing."

"Yes?"

"The next time Jack asks you to come with him to sneak and peep behind the gates of the Mother and Baby Home, please tell him in your own words what we told you today."

"How did you know we have been there? We weren't spying on Angela's birth mother, on my word of honour. She wasn't even there at the time… when we did that."

"It was not so difficult to guess. I am not totally incompetent as a parent, and I have been a lad myself. Medical training cured me of nosiness to other people's lives. If Jack does not believe you, or you don't know what to say and how to defend Angela's birth mother or the honour of the house of Turner, send Jack to my surgery and I will have a man-to-man talk with him."

"Oh, I think I should be capable of defending the house of Turner on my own," Timothy blurted out with a hint of maturity. The first time they had seen that in their son. Patrick and Shelagh stole a proud look between themselves.

"That's my boy. I am sure you are capable of that, Timothy."


End file.
